


Truths and Dares and A Whole Lot of Consequences

by SteelandSilk (SilkCut)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, Alice in Wonderland References, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Exes, F/M, Future Fic, Indian Character, Mind Games, NaNoWriMo, Older Woman/Younger Man, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Seduction, Size Difference, Tragic Romance, Trope Subversion/Inversion, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2018-11-04 17:42:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10995780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilkCut/pseuds/SteelandSilk
Summary: At a masquerade ball, the ambitious twenty-five year old software engineer Kunal uncovers the real identity of a random woman he decided to have a simple conversation with just so he can salvage an otherwise forgettable night.Meeting this woman proved to have deadly consequences beyond what he could have imagined, however, as he became ingrained into an alternate world whose citizens are forcing him to play the role of a 'savior' so he can participate in a war being fought between two headstrong queens. But Kunal couldn't actually figure out what it was that he needs to save and who he must fight so he can complete this quest and just go home.Meanwhile, the same woman who brought him this trouble to begin with is always too elusive as she kept disappearing on him every time he gets close enough to question her.She might just be the only key that can stop this madness—if only she wants to be found and claimed.





	1. The Tide

 

 

✧༺༻✧༺༻✧

**1**

✧༺༻✧༺༻✧

 

 

 

Kunal left the glider on autopilot for far too long again which messed up the wirings in the main engine. This meant that it could not revert back to manual setting, at least not until the next three hours which was time he simply did not have. The invitation specified he should be there by six o'clock sharp. Fact: it was more his style to be fashionably late because there is nothing like making the right entrance in the middle of a party. Another fact: he also knew that this would be the wrong social event to do that in for, not with the kind of guests who are coming.

Two of his bots trailed behind noiselessly as he trudged around his spacious bedroom, retrieving the clothes he had to wear while checking his message tracker for any incoming mails that could be pertinent. He often found that work doesn’t stop for him just because he’s inside the comfort of his home. While putting on a dark bowtie, he glanced every now and then at his Clay. It took him four more times before he was able to put on the goddamn bowtie. Even after all these years he still needed to practice. He’d die in shame if anyone was watching him struggle to put a simple piece of accessory just now. Thankfully enough, he lived alone and never committed to a relationship long enough to feel the absence of it as something depressing. No, he had far too many things in mind to even ponder on sentiments.

Kunal took his Clay and scrolled down using only the crook of his thumb while the device rested on his palm.

The sleek and smooth device marketed as ‘Clay’ was conveniently customized to fit around its user’s palm. It was a cube with hologram dimensions designed to be intuitive, allowing the fingers’ dexterity to guide the navigation of its features without the user having to suffer any kind of muscle strain. The person only has to curl his fingers every now and then to explore the applications in the device. Operating in a swift and exact fashion, Clay didn’t require any more manual prompting, and using it was therefore efficient and economical especially for a man on the move like him. He had no time to appreciate the wonders of his Clay at the moment, however, since he had to leave soon. Today of all days proved that he needed to manage his time better. It’s awfully negligent of him to be scatterbrained.

Again, this was another reason he lived in solitude—no one would be there to witness his small failings.

The bots were not helping with his sense of urgency at all. They kept following him around and bugging him to consume his daily food intake which was a task he would rather forego to save time. The easiest solution is to disable to bots; he could just flip their switches and leave them like that until he returns home, but there was a reason why he programmed them to follow a strict schedule to monitor his diet and health, and to disable it now would mean he may find excuses in the future to do it, so he’d rather not start that habit.

Eating his meal took about ten minutes. Afterwards he immediately rushed out of the building, but not after he made sure that his glider was safely locked inside one of the designated garages. He then checked his Clay once just to be sure and was pleased at least that there were no work-related mails he had to read and answer. The concrete underneath his feet pushed against him now as he jogged his way to the nearest station. He almost collided with a drone sweeping the streets but avoided it just in time as he sharply turned to a corner.

If he must follow the specified arrival time, then he now has to take the public transit. The advancement found in this new-age transportation has truly made it the most efficient way to travel across the metropolis, and soon enough the cosmos. And although he acknowledges the transit's functionality, there simply was no prestige about this machinery, and he was a man of extreme pride and very concerned about the image he puts out there. This was why being seen with common folk inside the transit was not the most flattering thing for him.

But nobody could tell he was irate to be standing among the masses because as soon as he stepped into that platform, he acted immediately as if he had done this plenty of times before and oozed with a quiet yet intense kind of confidence that those beside him peered at him out of curiosity, awe and yes, perhaps, even desire. He was also dressed in a tuxedo with a mask on. That certainly lent an air of enigma which now wafted around him like an alluring fragrance. Standing over six foot two, he was already a man you cannot easily dismiss, but then there were also other qualities such as his eloquence of speech, initiative and calm composure.

These qualities made him very irresistible to many eligible women (and sometimes men) each time he made his presence known in a room. He commanded attention and respect, and his lucrative position in his field was also another fine asset to covet about him.

Kunal supposed being inside the public transit would not tarnish him. It was so silly to think it could lessen who he is, especially since he had worked hard to get to where he is right now while most young men his age were still at school or trapped in dead-end jobs with low-paying salaries. But he had always been a deeply insecure man with an ego very easy to bruise. He had learned over the years to develop a thicker, if not prickly, skin, and that entailed cultivating a persona so separate from what he truly was inside.

He might as well wear a mask all the time because he has hidden in plain sight his whole life anyway.

The monitor fixed above the passengers repeated the same sequence of commercials as usual, so he opted to look outside the translucent windows instead. The city was starting to come alive at this hour as if it’s only being awakened from a dreamless state when the evening steadily deepened. To combat this, illumination spreads across the city until a long stretch of blinking neon lights of varied colors was able to overpower the darkness, one that could have cradled homes and infrastructures into oblivion if not for the ingenuity of technology. The phenomenon itself was so commonplace that nobody really cares anymore, but it was nevertheless a true sign of how far civilization had progressed that there were a thousand kinds of light source and surveillance anywhere to sustain the places in the world with convenience if not luxury. Man will never again fear the dark, not after he had mastered fire and electricity and built machines to keep it at a safe distance.

Even the brightest stars found in the heavens are put to shame by the ones that decorate man’s skyscrapers.

Once the transit doors opened, he took off his mask momentarily and shuffled through the pristine floors of the receiving post while following the designated line of people heading out in the same direction as him. He retrieved his Clay from the inner pocket of his tuxedo and laid it on his palm so he can distract himself with playing some game while he waited for his turn on the checkpoint. The drone hovered above the console itself as people swiped their palms on a glass frame so the system can run their bio prints for identification.

A blue light would blink twice during every clearance that took place, and when it was his turn, Kunal languidly passed by with one hand still tinkering on his Clay while the other swiped across the glass. But then his print suddenly didn’t register for some odd reason. He didn’t even take notice of the discrepancy until the drone by the console (which was an eight-foot towering hunk of metal manufactured in Japan) spoke up in a clear, concise, almost too human-like voice, citing, “Citizen, please allow the system to scan you for identification.” Its eyeless, mouthless sphere of a head turned towards his direction as if it can even see him.

He heard a few grunts from behind him and he shared their sentiment quite easily. Glaring at the drone, he swiped his hand again and waited for the blue light to confirm his bio print. When nothing happened, he swiped it back once more, this time allowing his palm to even touch the glass, lingering there. He was becoming nervous by the second when it still wouldn’t work, but luckily the mishap had ceased when an elderly man behind him told him to press his thumb instead of the entire hand. Why doing that suddenly worked was curious, but it’s something he didn’t have time to contemplate more about because he didn’t want to run late.

With a silent nod of gratitude and a small smile at the old man who lent him aid, he zoomed past the other passengers to head to the nearest elevator. He placed his Clay back into his inner pocket and began fastening the mask back in place.

 

 

✧

 

 

An unbelievable number of small chandeliers greeted him once he was ushered into the entrance by a pair of overweight butlers who could easily be mistaken as twins since they wore matching masks and outfits. One of them grinned widely while the other didn’t. Kunal just flashed his invitation—a dark metallic card glowing in gold lettering—and headed inside.

He swore that the unsmiling butler stared at him as he passed through. It was bizarre but he quickly managed to become unfazed about the entire affair especially after looking up to see those chandeliers, none of which were even turned on.

They were displayed in the high ceiling like icicles that could fall on everyone and viciously pierce through bodies. It was a saving grace then that there is a good twelve feet that separated the floor from the ceiling. That's twice his height, so he can probably run and duck somewhere fast before those chandeliers can kill anyone. He wasn’t sure why he was even having such morbid imaginings of being killed by a chandelier. It was probably the social anxiety. Underneath his confident exterior is a rather anxious individual who often starved for the approval of his superiors and peers. Kunal could fool everyone into believing he didn’t need it, except perhaps his on-again, off-again ‘girlfriend’ Marleigh whose only defining trait as a significant other was to see and bring out the worst in him.

Thinking about that detestable woman whom he wasted two years getting strung along in college as her backup ‘boyfriend’ whenever she's bored or single again, was enough to make Kunal want to go the nearest toilet and puke his dinner from earlier.

So he decided against thinking about her. Good riddance.

The masquerade deemed Kiss With a Fist (a horrid name that tries far too hard to be sexy) wasn’t as exciting as he initially imagined it would be. But a gangbang is a gangbang, especially if the participants were the rich and elite. He needed to attend this goddamn ball—and a masquerade ball, for crying out loud. It was such an antiquated thing to have these days, but he has a penchant for old values, so he secretly finds it a guilty pleasure that he had to attend it. Still, nobody needed to know that crucial information.

All that mattered was that he was here now. He had been punctual and now he had grown bored.

Until he found her.

She looked like a ghost, some haunted specter from an urban legend he read a while back.

The white dress she had chosen to put on made her both stand out and easily disappear through the crowds of other women who wore more varied shades. There is enough visual excitement of red and purple and blue clashing all over the room, and an assortment of long sweeping gowns with hues of greens and blues that sparkle under the harsh lights.

Naturally, her whiteness would unavoidably get washed out among the sea of colors.

She didn’t seem to care about it, based on how she slouched while sitting there all by herself on a barstool closest to the exit. Her posture was too slack, possibly even bored, while she played with the olives in her drink. That was her second glass; he knew because he’d been glancing at her from across the room every now and then. He remembered that it was during a forgettable conversation with a co-worker and his wife whose names he can’t even remember, when he looked over to the side and spotted her. At first he didn’t think much about the sight until he started staring longer at this ghostly apparition of a woman and found himself intrigued for no other reason except she looked so out of place.

The magnetism of such an observation caught up to him, reeling him in a few moments later, until he was compelled to excuse himself from the couple desperately still trying to engage him in small talk. They were so boring, he’d rather approach her instead.

Kunal had been told several times by friends and acquaintances that he was a gifted conversationalist, a skill he harnessed over time once he started feeling more confident about the kind of man he wanted the world to know he is (while possibly being another kind in secret; he so does love playing with people’s expectations of him). This was why he had no qualms approaching a stranger so casually like this, particularly a woman he considered worth getting to know. He glided to her right side without a single noise while she was still staring into her drink.

He rested his elbow on the edge of the bar as he gave himself a few seconds of silence before he spoke up in a tone that required him to lean closer than he’s supposed to, but he didn’t care about personal space at this point.

“You look like a bride who just lost her groom.”

She turned her head to meet his gaze in quite a languid manner, and now both of them openly assessed what they’re looking at and why they should even bother. The masks they were wearing as part of this annual ball’s tradition concealed enough of their features. His mask was a plain red one with a sheen of some sort, while hers was as white as the rest of her. It was a thin piece of glittering ceramic with vine-like carvings that swirl and twist on its surface, almost as if they were locked in an eternal struggle. Underneath all that commotion was a pair of dark brown eyes which he could see bore a mark of intelligence. There was something else lurking too—something he’d like to figure out.

He didn’t smile at all because he knew women responded more to a serious-looking man than any other kind. Her lukewarm response to everything around her was remarkable only because it mirrored his own disinterest. The whole time she kept her body angled away from him which for him was an invitation. He liked it when women give off a keep-away vibe. It made it more challenging to pry them open. And this one looked like she mastered the craft. Offering no verbal response at first, she simply took out the olives from her vodka so she can put them in her mouth after playing with them for so long.

Finally, she replied, “Or I ran away from my own wedding. You don’t fucking know my story.”

There was no hostility in her tone, but her posture noticeably became aggressive. She didn’t lean into him the way he did, yet she met his eyes without any hint of awkwardness of embarrassment which he quite approved of. Most women would blush or do all sorts of transparent things like touch his arm or play with their hair to indicate interest. Not that he minded those social cues; they were helpful for him to read when he wanted to sleep with a woman. At the moment he wasn’t sure what he wanted with this one, but he’d like to stick around and find out.

He leaned closer yet again, completely unconcerned of how he was imposing himself upon her smaller frame. She tilted her chin up slightly and even with the dangerous narrowing of her eyes she didn’t flinch away from his presence looming above her like that. Now that he has her full attention, everything else in the background seemed to fade off for the both of them. It was all reduced to a blur of shapes and a random cacophony. He didn’t mind one bit. In fact, he can spend the rest of the evening just staring into her eyes. Why not?

There was nothing better to do, and he was feeling restless—caged, even—in social circles that demanded him to please the right people, receive the right recognition for his accomplishments and associate with the right institutions of power so he can get ahead. Most days, he would take a step back and examine his choices and the sum of those choices that got him to where he was at life right now and though he didn’t exactly dislike it, he also didn’t outright love it. He had never been truly…happy for as long as he could remember.

And so he stood there beside this anonymous woman, hoping to mix things up to cure his boredom at least.

“Then why don’t you invigorate me with your story?” he asked politely although the tone he used has a subtle challenging quality.

She blinked at him once, and if he was an arrogant fool, he would think that the action was almost like she was batting her eyelashes at him except she wasn’t being coquettish at all, nor that amused to be bothered with this bullshit. Still, he pressed on, courageously holding her gaze as if he was daring her to break the eye contact first. When she didn’t, she managed to reply instead.

“One condition,” she pulled her glass of vodka to her and began spinning the tip of her index finger around the rim. “No names.”

“No names,” he echoed as he slowly pulled away just so he can appraise the rest of her appearance better. She had a simple yet well-maintained bobcat hairstyle that framed her face just right, and French manicured nails on hands that seemed like they had their share of hard labor. He believed her dark hair was natural and so was her brown skin. Eastern European? Perhaps Latina or Asian even? Her accent was certainly not American, but it was also hard to distinguish. It was hard to figure out the rest of her for now not only because of the mask that covered half of her face, but also since she had an overall air of ambiguity that he of course cannot resist trying to decipher.

The dress she wore fit her snugly around the chest and hips. Her ample bosom cannot be mistaken especially when the only thing that seemed to keep her breasts from slipping out is the ridiculous amount of lace that surrounded the area. As far as he could tell, she had more girth than he would have expected in someone of a shorter height, but that also meant he would have enough to really hold onto and squeeze if he did end up fucking her tonight. He usually preferred more meat in a female, if he were to be quite honest, because he discovered a long time ago that most stick-thin women were usually too fragile to handle his roughness.

Marleigh had complained about it more than once, often nagging him to stop being so aggressive as if sex was supposed to be a competition. She said it's supposed to be an expression of love, but they both knew she never had any to give him. Their conflicting styles in the bedroom exhausted them eventually, so the compromise of simply doing it missionary made it seventy-five percent enjoyable at least. He convinced her to fuck in the shower once, but she was so awkward with the positioning that she twisted her elbow and it ended up in a cast for a week. Marleigh couldn’t even look at him after that and even when she did, it’s usually mixed with spite and shame.

God forbid anyone in her church found out she had a sex-related injury especially her parents who were secretly very racist and never wanted her dating an Indian man in the first place.

And so he rarely indulged in any kind of gentle lovemaking these days, not when everything about life tended to frustrate him in an alarming frequency, souring his moods even as he played the part of a good son and overachieving scholar. He didn’t care to disguise that he was assessing her figure, though the mask did its part in concealing the intensity of his gaze.

A smile touched his lips when he asked, “So. Why did you leave your own wedding?”

He was still playing with the premise of her ‘runaway bride’ scenario which she didn’t seem to mind indulging either as she answered, “I simply realized that he didn’t understand one fundamental thing about me, so why would I even spend the rest of my life with a person like that?” she paused so she can drink her vodka. A smudge of dark red lipstick stayed on the rim. “Why should anyone?”

“Lack of options, mostly,” he suggested, shrugging as he continued enumerating them while he opted to lean more of his weight against the bar’s ledge, “There is also the parental pressure to settle down, the cultural expectations about marriage itself, and some specific fears of ending up alone and unloved and, worse, maybe become dirt poor or die unsupervised.”

“Funny,” she remarked though she neither smiled nor laugh at all. She didn’t seem to know how. Perhaps he can coax it out of her.

“What was that fundamental thing about you that you claimed he didn’t understand?” he asked her again.

“Hmm?” she blinked almost sleepily at him as she took another sip and then turned her head away so she can stare at the drab wall across the barstool for a few seconds. She then finished gulping down the rest of her drink and placed the glass gently on the table. Fully turning the rest of her body to him now, she crossed her legs with one smooth motion. The dress hiked up a few inches to reveal more of her skin peeking underneath which was nice, he thought to himself. His gaze didn’t linger there for too long, however. For his part, he remained on his feet at all times. He liked to glide around and move and sitting on a barstool might just prevent that.

With a soft exhale, she suddenly said, “Free.”

He raised an eyebrow at that term. She then said, “He didn’t understand that I’ll always be free.”

Just to play devil’s advocate, he asked, “Don’t most men believe that once a woman marries him, that she would voluntarily give up some of that autonomy?” He tried not to sound like an asshole by phrasing that question. It was only genuine curiosity that made him inquire it.

But she took no offense. “Would you?” she just asked as her hand reached out to pull at her left hoop earring before those same fingers brushed through the short locks of her hair. There was nothing suggestive about the gesture, but he found himself looking at those fingers nevertheless.

“Are you asking me if I myself believe that a woman I’m going to marry should give up her autonomy for my sake, or that any woman should first give up her autonomy in order to become someone’s wife to begin with?” he paused only for dramatic effect before he answered, “Neither. I think it’s just a social construct that is hard to get over with, like most supposedly good things tainted by patriarchy.”

“By default, one can say you yourself benefit the most from this society because you’re a man. However, you’re not Caucasian so you at least have that whole non-white race thing going against you,” Her shoulders noticeably relaxed as she tapped her fingers on the bar. Her body language seemed less cautious at this point. “They say it’s a progressive society now, but I think at its core it’s all still very biased and primitive.”

“But do men really thrive and improve because of a patriarchal society? Is being the oppressive gender helping any of us men?”

“I don’t know,” she crossed her arms. He could see that a smile was starting to appear in those thickly-painted red lips. “And I don’t care.”

“Apathy seems to be your strongest suit, miss,” he only shrugged with a mild grin and then gestured at the bartender for his choice of drink. He could tell that it was her turn to stare at him as he kept his own gaze wandering around to look at the other women at the bar. All of them glittered because of the way the light bounced off their jewelry, but none piqued his interest as much as present company. So, he turned his eyes back at her and lowered them to the lacy area of her dress, the one that’s covering her chest.

“You seem to enjoy looking at my dress a lot,” she commented dryly as she shifted her position on the barstool.

“I do like lace,” he answered without missing a beat. “And that’s a lot of lace. Maybe too much.”

“There’s no such thing,” she looped two fingers into a few strings of lace around her chest, pulling them slightly enough to reveal some of her cleavage. That action can be mistaken as accidental, but he recognized there was a veiled intent too.

He grinned at that, “I didn’t think a woman your age could pull off this much lace.”

Now she laughed although it lacked any sort of joy. “Ouch. How old do you think I am?”

The bartender came back with his glass of whiskey which he took a sip from first before he said, “Definitely not in your twenties.”

“But you are, right?” she gave a slight nod at the bartender which seemed to be some kind of signal for him to bring her another martini.

“Twenty-five,” he didn’t see any reason to withhold that simple fact.

She uncrossed her legs now and lifted her hand once, and the bartender instantly placed a glass around it. “And do you feel the crushing burden of the twenty-five years you’ve lived and endured including all the experiences accumulated right until this very moment?”

He snorted at that ridiculous phrasing but replied nonetheless, “All the time.”

“Oh, you’re still young,” she waved a hand at him as if quick to dismiss his personal torment which was typical of older people.

“So are you in your mid-thirties…” he trailed off to glance at her, “…I’m assuming.”

“Good guess,” she reached forward to clink her martini glass against his.

They sipped their respective drinks now. Afterwards, she pointed out, “Are you hoping you’re going to take me home later so we can fuck?” She stated it just like that, sounding far too detached. It was not an invitation or a rejection, but he of course knew that her cavalier expression was all a cover-up from what she must truly felt about the situation. Women are all the same in that respect. He knew that well by now.

He didn’t falter at all when he replied, “Is that the only reason you think a man like me would approach a woman like you?”

“Isn’t it?” she posed the question back at him which was so typical.

He shook his head once and told her, “You don’t fucking know my story.”

She pulled her martini close to her chest as if it was a shield to be used. “Then tell me why you approached me.”

“Boredom,” he admitted, almost too mournfully.

“Not good enough,” he could tell her expression darkened even underneath the mask. “You could have picked any other person here. Look around us. There is no shortage of girls around your age whom I’m sure would be more than happy to flirt back and go home with you. I could tell you can be very persuasive. Charming, too. So why bother with a woman a decade your senior?”

_Why indeed? Why did I notice her and why did I come here?_

“You’re the only one who looked like she didn’t belong here,” he elaborated this time, “As if you’re supposed to be lounging in another place, in another time. Even the way you talk, the way you move—you give off every indication that you’re from a world of your very own,” he leaned closer to her as his voice softened into a whisper, “And I want to know what kind of world that is—where it is—and if you’d take me there.”

The honesty in which he had spoken that aloud was mystifying. He hasn’t been inclined to open up to a stranger for a very long time. He did that once when he was just a foolish kid who wanted, for once, to be seen. Kunal shifted, looking uncomfortable.

“That’s a lot of expectation to put on someone you hardly know,” she blinked a few times as if she’s trying to see if he was real before her.

“I expect too much from people, much like I expect a lot from myself,” he admitted again.

“You should probably stop talking and saying nonsense,” she raised her free hand to touch his mouth, the fingers warm and gentle against his lips. He almost wanted to bite them in eagerness but managed to control himself at the last second. “I don’t think you should divulge your private thoughts so willingly to a stranger like this. You don’t know what else can happen.”

“Maybe that’s the whole point,” he only remarked but said nothing else afterwards. She just lowered her hand from his mouth but then it began to hover on his chest this time. For a moment it would seem she wanted to touch him there; to press her palm against him for no other reason except to feel him. But she just retracted her hand quickly as if burned.

Neither of them minded this standstill and merely continued to appreciate each other’s company without another word spoken or exchanged between them. The two of them turned their attention now to the rest of the world feasting and dancing; all these loud and vibrant creatures in masks forming circles around each other or blending as one great canvass while indecipherable music played. It was a union of different singularities finding one another on a rare night of honesty and contentment. He found it fascinating and yet sad at the same time.

“The masks help,” she commented as if she can read his thoughts just by looking at him.

“Help with what?” he glanced back at her and his eyes immediately fall to her lips as he wondered what kind of shade she was wearing that made those lips so tantalizing to smear against his own. And he mostly hated lipstick on women especially when the color would get on the collar of his shirts. To his pleasant surprise, she began to move closer to him, sliding her elbow across the bar. He remained still. As if he would ever want to move away from her, not at this point. She was attractive and smart, and the anonymity made it hot.

She kept coming closer and closer until he can taste her scent, a flowery essence that’s milder than the rest of her visage. He sharply inhaled without even realizing it. She stopped coming close—and broke into a wide smile for the first time tonight. He wasn’t returning it, however, after he realized that she only smiled because she thought she caught him off-guard and therefore had embarrassed him. Like hell she did.

His free hand rose from his side so he can use his index finger to tap her chin gently. He did so twice before smiling back at her and saying, “I think another reason I approached you was because…I think there’s something quite familiar about you, but I can’t place it. I know it’s a weird thing to say, given we’ve been wearing masks and all.” He lowered his hand even though all he wanted to do now is to keep touching her, preferably in other places he would rather reserve for later. Is it truly just sexual?

“That’s what I meant,” she replied, “The masks help. It is said that ‘man is least himself when he speaks to his person but give him a mask—”

“—and he will tell the truth’,” he promptly finished for her as his gaze now blurred for a second before he adjusted his posture, straightening his back with a renewed alertness. “Are you sure we don’t know each other, miss?” he asked pointedly although he wasn’t expecting a real answer.

She snorted. The sound was ungraceful and almost mocking. But her smile relaxed as she said, “Maybe we do. In another life.”

He must have looked glum after she uttered that statement because she started laughing. The sound made him tense up, but he regained control and just shook his head, smirking as he did. When he was sure of himself again, he remarked, “Oscar Wilde said that, didn’t he?”

“You a fan?” she inquired as her entire body language seemed more amicable now, even cheerful.

He almost forgot he was still holding onto his drink, and then he decided to take a sip before he said, “I knew a girl once who was.”

“Tell me about her.”

The whiskey somewhat felt more sour, even acidic, as it traveled down his throat. “No.”

“No?” she chuckled again, tucking her chin on her palm as she leaned her elbow on the surface of the bar.

“I’d rather we dance—” he finished the rest of his drink and slightly slammed it on the bar. He reached out a hand to her. “Come on.”

For several moments, she looked back and forth between his outstretched hand and his masked face. He also noticed a flicker of doubt and apprehension in those eyes, but he kept his hand towards her anyway, choosing not to speak. With another soft sigh, she finally hopped out of the barstool and wiped her hands on her dress. She wasn’t outwardly agitated but he can tell she was nervous about something. The difference in their heights was very pronounced even with her high heels, but he had been used to towering over most women all his life, but something about towering over her in particular bothered him. He only managed to figure out why once he had taken her among the crowds of other pairs swaying and swinging to the music. The world suddenly didn’t matter except for this curiously tense moment.

They decided to pick a corner in the ballroom since dozens of couples took more room at the center. He moved closer now to scoop her in his arms, squeezing her hand in a reassuring grip while cupping the small of her back with the other. It was a rather formal stance for a dancing that’s supposedly casual and modern. He could feel her pulse racing as their fingers interlaced. Now he’s becoming nervous as well. That hasn’t happened in a long time, not since he was seventeen and falling in love for the first time.

His breath hitched upon recalling that memory which he spent a long time making sure it stayed buried. Looking down, he noticed that she did seem rather uncomfortable being this close to him, and for a moment he thought he misread and understood the flirtatious vibe going on between them earlier. That was until she leaned all her weight upon him and tilted her head so she can meet his gaze.

He wanted to kiss her. The desire was so intense that it’s making his stomach knot and collapse underneath him.

She exhaled and lowered her gaze to his chest where her head can easily rest upon if she wished it so, but she didn’t do it.

They were hardly even dancing by now and must look quite odd standing close like that and not moving to the music while everyone else was enthralled to spin around, lost in the urgency of joy and lust and lack of inhibitions. He didn’t let her hand go or allow her to slip away from his grasp the entire time, however, and she didn’t seem that eager to get away from him either. When their gazes meet the second time, he found the courage to finally lean down with the goal of capturing her mouth on his, and she remained perfectly still while watching him through half-lidded eyes. Her free hand had curled into a fist earlier and was resting now on his chest, gripping around his blazer.

Her lips felt thick as they were warm against his because of the fullness of the lipstick. That didn’t bother him at all, but he did keep the pressure between them gentle, hoping to savor the simplicity of it all before the kiss ever deepens later on. But she pulled away before it ever could, blinking up at him with an almost tearful expression as if this is a mistake. His eyes widened as soon as he noticed that and the twinge he felt on his chest also worsened because he realized exactly why this was happening—and who she could actually be.

He was going to speak up but didn’t know what he could possibly say.

Apparently she knew and broke this spell between them when she dared utter the last thing he expected.

“Kunal,” she said, looking even daintier now that she had revealed who she was under the mask by saying only one word.

It felt as if the chandeliers above them shook and dropped on him.

The recognition became so instant; he had heard this voice before; he had looked into those eyes once.

 _No names_ , she demanded moments ago as her only condition to keep talking to him. But she knew his. And he knew hers too.

“Faith,” he only whispered the name in fear of invoking it too loud for anyone else to hear.

She pulled away from him completely and he let her go easily enough. Their fingers untangled, his arm loosened from behind her back. Her mask can no longer conceal the tears that had just formed behind her eyes. He wondered if the same could be said for him.

Without another word—especially now that she’s been exposed—this woman he thought was just another stranger turned away from him and ran off into the night. And he didn’t chase her just yet, this runaway bride. Wherever she’s going now, it’s somewhere he knew he can’t follow. And so for a whole minute he stayed where he was, watching her leave with a helpless kind of submission filling him.

He wasn’t sure why, but something inside him just cracked and his feet finally began to move, shuffling underneath him as he glided across the floor to push his way through the crowd. Upon reaching the exit, he broke into a sprint and ran after her.

 

 

 

* * *

 


	2. The Spoiler Alert

 

 

 

✧༺༻✧༺༻✧

**2**

✧༺༻✧༺༻✧

 

 

As an eleven year old girl, Faith found herself one day contemplating about how keys were made and how they were even invented in the first place. She supposed that locks have had to come first because a key's purpose is to unlock those. Locks act as a safeguard to something valuable like properties or a deposit box with money and jewelry or legal documents stating ownership. Locks keep other people out especially if they shouldn’t even pry on these private possessions. But what about keys?

To her it seemed as if they serve two functions. Locks have a more rigid role in all this; they're just there for one purpose only. But keys are trickier. You can insert them into a lock whether to seal it completely or to open it again. They can keep something a secret and out of reach, or they can unleash whatever is worthy enough to keep concealed to begin with.

That fascination stayed with her for years. And in those times she began collecting all sorts of keys; antique, ordinary house keys, jewelry types—one only has to name it and can bet that Faith already had it. She developed a consummate fixation over them that she even had a small closet room in her current apartment that only contained shoeboxes of these keys which were categorically labeled based on a system only she can understand and decipher. Everyone knew Faith was an eccentric, even if she didn’t have to collect keys.

In fact, no one aside from her parents and a few close relatives knew about her growing collection. They indulged her, however, and even helped her seek out keys and donate them to her such as keys that were sold or misplaced in junkyards, garage sales and ones that even belong to previous homes. It was a harmless occupation and one that made Faith endearing.

Such a hobby stayed with her for decades even now as a woman of thirty-four years of age. The only real difference is that the value she used to place on keys have evolved into something more feasible—something she intended to guard with her life. What used to be a simple childhood fascination had now become a rather definitive state of her entire person. In layman’s terms, she had become a key herself.

That wasn’t always a good thing. In fact, considering the role she had to play, it’s most definitely a dangerous thing.

 

 

 

✧

 

 

 

Kunal couldn’t seem to catch up to her. He had longer strides and was very much used to running for lengths of time due to his strict daily regimen of diet and exercise, and yet in spite of all that he still couldn’t catch up to this woman. Should he take that as the certifiable summary of everything they had been together long ago—that no matter how much he tried and gave it all, he can never seem to match her? Is that why he failed to be the man she had hoped he could be through her guidance and love? The painful truth was that he was still just a boy back then trying to figure out himself when she came to the picture, and he probably thought that pleasing her and finding any kind of shortcut to make her happy would automatically mean his own happiness is guaranteed as well. That hadn’t been the case now, had it?

These ruminations of the past were distracting him at the moment. Perhaps it’s why she was able to elude him easily as they went down the same path in these vacant corridors. The hallway in which they’ve been running in was vast and it didn’t seem to end. There were corners she turned to where she can disappear in for a few seconds, but Kunal was still able to keep her in his line of sight even if she was more or less twenty feet ahead of him. How is she running so fast especially in those heels? Something was off. He could even smell it in the air. An eerie kind of atmosphere swelled all around him, making everything else seemed unrecognizable in the background. He can’t even see the walls on his sides anymore. He can’t even feel his feet moving. All he could focus on was the carpeted floor and the exposure of her back. Her white gown shimmered even in the dim lighting and for one ridiculous moment, Kunal could have sworn she was _hopping_ and not running at all.

For what seemed like an eternity, Faith finally stopped which gave Kunal enough time to slow down himself until he was just walking towards her. He managed to gather his breaths as he approached, watching her in trepidation because he wasn’t certain what she will do next or what he should say to her now. Each step was reluctant; he knew that it would only be a matter of time before he can face her again, this time without their masks, and deal with the fact that they’re finally meeting after seven years since the abrupt ending of their relationship.

Kunal was only three feet away when he halted. He was exhaling aloud and the sound of his breathing seemed to be the only thing that filled the space between them. Her name was about to pass through his lips, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to utter it again, so instead he waited for her to turn around. He should probably think of what to say, but nothing coherent comes to mind at all.

As soon as she faced him at last, he noticed that Faith was holding something on the palm of her hand. His first thought was that she had her own Clay. Perhaps she was using it to arrange for a ride home. But there was something about the way she was grasping it that made him think otherwise. Whatever it was, the instrument was made of gold. It was solid and round, fitting against the clutch of her fingers. Kunal slightly tilted his head to the side, his curiosity now focused on that singular object. It looked familiar but he can’t place where he had seen one before.

“Stop following me,” she spoke up all of a sudden, interrupting his observation altogether.

He blinked a few times before he could answer, “Why did you have to run? Did—did you have to get away from me so badly?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she replied, her tone growing colder by the second. “You’re not worth tiring myself for.”

“Then why did you run?” he could feel his chest twinge just a little the more they kept talking. She was truly the last person in this planet he hoped to meet. Kunal could have been content going through his life without ever crossing paths with Faith. There were just so many things in the past that included her which he would rather preserve in memory but not relive, certainly not at the moment. And the more she stood there, looking less and less of a ghostly apparition and more of a woman made of flesh and blood—especially since he had just kissed her moments ago—the more insufferable it gets to be in her presence. His stomach felt knotted like an invisible cord had wrapped around his insides and wouldn’t loosen at all. Still, he risked another step forward while keeping his eyes on her the entire time.

She barely moved. Her hand still clutched around the instrument in a very protective way that was almost suspicious. Faith wasn’t even fully facing him; her body was still angled to the left side as if she was preparing to turn away soon if it suited her mood. Underneath her ceramic mask she was staring straight at him and Kunal can feel the intensity of that gaze. That didn’t dissuade him from taking another step.

As for her part, Faith didn’t seem to care that he’s coming close and voiced no protestation either. In fact, he felt that she wanted him to seal the distance between them—would he be brave enough to do that? If that’s not the case, then why is she not running away from him anymore? It was truly puzzling, but then again even way back before Kunal had always struggled to read this woman. Why should it be any different now?

Faith kept tilting her chin up slowly as he approached, possibly so she can meet his eyes and compensate for the difference in their heights.

“Answer my question,” Kunal’s tone was almost appeasing, hoping he can convince her she shouldn’t be hostile.

But she never did answer him. Instead, she began to ask him about the last thing he expected. “Do you ever see time as a constant predator?”

Understandably, he was taken aback. “What does that even mean, Fei?”

She shrugged her shoulders once. And then she began elaborating, “There’s never a moment in our lives when we are not at war with time. We struggle to meet a certain deadline and end up running away from it. But if life is truly a game, then we’ll definitely do anything to win, though we realize that no victory could ever satisfy us. To survive, we feel we must conquer an enemy. Time is such an adversary.”

Kunal was paying attention to all that she had just said as his gaze traveled down to the instrument she was clutching on her hand. Now that he can see it properly, he realized that it couldn’t have been anything else than a pocket watch— only bigger than he had ever seen before and almost the size of a fist. It made sense now why she was philosophizing about time, but there was no exact context, really, as to why she was spouting out such weird nonsense to him to begin with. What does this have anything to do with the reason why she ran?

“Fei, listen—” he began as he placed a hand on her shoulder. The gesture surprised him because he wasn’t planning on touching her again. But he might as well keep it there while making sure the contact remained gentle.

Faith glanced briefly at his hand before she looked up at him again. “No, you listen, Kunal.”

“Not until you tell me why you ran—”

“I was getting there,” she raised her free hand now. For a moment he thought she was going to remove his own hand from her shoulder so he did her the courtesy first and let her go. But instead Faith began unlatching her mask from her face. Something about that made Kunal’s heart beat fast. It’s probably because he preferred for them to stay masked even though they know each other. With that barricade still in place, maybe he could still pretend that none of this was real; that she wasn’t here right now, skewering his insides.

“People are physiologically driven by hunger. And oftentimes our fear will always be the primary psychological motivator,” she kept talking as she removed her mask. It seemed to Kunal as if she was speaking for an audience and not just him. That was odd because he was pretty sure they’re alone right now. Faith didn’t seem to talk or act like they are, and that was—disconcerting.

Fully unmasked, Faith now stood before him in all her five feet stature, still going on about her piece. It sounded rather well-rehearsed. “We are a bottomless pit of nothingness inside and we believe that by accumulating wealth, companionships, jobs, important titles and other kinds of possessions would at least make existence bearable. We do these things to fill that void—” the hand that was still holding onto her mask was now hovering above his chest. Her fingers were light but he swore he could feel the touch burning through his tuxedo.

“—but just as when we’re finally going to be happy—time’s up.”

Kunal hardly heard that last part because he was too busy trying not to notice that they were growing closer again physically, much like earlier when he took her in his arms for the most awkward dance imaginable. Instinctively, he backed away from her. It was unintentionally exaggerated, as it turns out, because he ended up colliding against a nearby couch set behind him. Neither of them found it funny though.

“Fei,” he spoke up with some sternness before she can say anything else that would confuse him further, “I don’t need any more litany or speech from you, alright? You’re not even making any sense. Just—get to the point! I just need to know why you ran earlier!” He was beginning to sound exasperated by the entire thing. Why did she have to make their first meeting so complicated?

She stood there completely immobile aside from the way her chest rose and fell while she breathed. Clutching the mask and the large pocket watch on both hands, Faith only stared at him with the calmest composure he had ever seen in anyone. The light above her bathed her features with enough illumination as it cast shadows all the same. She wore minimal make-up, he supposed, and what stood out the most was the blood-red lipstick she applied. He remembered tasting the thickness of its composition against his own lips—and how warm.

Kunal blinked nervously when his mind wandered back to that damnable kiss. It made him a little angry as he scoffed under his breath and pushed himself off the couch’s ledge which he ended up sitting on earlier. “Well?” he demanded.

“I don’t recall you being this impatient,” she replied while she looked down at the watch, seemingly hypnotized by it.

“Again, you’re not answering me!” Kunal raised his voice which he quickly regretted. He shouldn’t lose his cool especially not around her.

“I ran…” she began as she took a step closer now, “…because I realized I didn’t have enough time.”

“Time for what?” Kunal also took another step to meet her halfway. Casually, he ripped off the mask from his face, considering it was useless.

But Faith was shaking her head, looking sad and disappointed about something. What she said next baffled him even more: “I’m late. I’m always late. It’s not your fault, Kunal. I shouldn’t have come to this party in the first place. I thought I had some time to spare, but I should have known time has now become the boss of me. And I’m sorry—I need to go…”

She turned away swiftly but Kunal caught her by the wrist before she can just run off again.

“You’re staying,” he commanded, his fingers tightening around her. “You didn’t think I would just let you go now, did you?”

He expected her to be angry, to lash out and struggle from his grasp. Instead of doing any of that, Faith just slowly turned her head to meet his gaze. She still looked sad and that worried him immensely. In those short months seven years ago before everything changed, Kunal knew Faith as strong-willed and stubborn, who would summon a power within her that can even move mountains if need be.

But this version of her he was holding onto at the moment—she seemed lost—helpless even. Whatever it was, Kunal found his hold slipping all of a sudden until she was free enough to put some distance between them again. Faith walked a few steps ahead and that was when he noticed she was barefoot. Did she take off her heels earlier so she’d run faster? That seems sensible.

“In this war against time,” she spoke up in that same tone she used while she narrated earlier from some sort of script. It was still disconcerting. Faith looked over her shoulder, seemingly to glance at him, “…there are three kinds of fighters.”

A pregnant silence ensued before Kunal said, “If you refuse to talk to me like a normal person, I’m just going to leave, Fei.”

“You said so yourself that the reason why you even approached me at the party back there—before you ever found out we actually know each other—was because I looked like I belonged in another place, in another time; that I don’t belong in this world at all but in one of my very own creation,” she kept her back turned from him now. Her posture and demeanor were all very dramatic and it’s testing his patience, but he stayed where he was just to hear what else she has to say. “And you also said you want to know what kind of world it is.”

“I already do,” Kunal remarked just for the sake of saying something.

What he was actually trying to say was, _I’ve already gotten a glimpse of that world long ago, and I barely survived it._

“No,” she said in a hushed tone. He was almost unable to hear her say, “You really don’t.”

“What are we doing here, Faith? Why are you talking in circles like this?” he spread out his arms, indicating his frustration. “And don’t give me any more bullshit, okay? You ran _because_ you realized who I am right after we—” but he couldn’t finish the sentence.

He supposed he was still too cowardly to admit that the kiss earlier affected him deeply. She always had this ability to make him feel inadequate somehow, as if all he will ever do for her would never be enough. Meeting her now and talking to her again after all these years have passed was opening up old wounds he’d rather not bleed from anymore.

Suddenly, she turned around. Her eyes have finally come alive as she told him through gritted teeth, “Forget about all that! It was a moment of weakness we shared under the guise of anonymity and safety! That kiss was a lie, just like everything you claimed to feel for me years ago!”

Each statement punctured through him, the words laced with hatred Kunal suspected will always be there. He lowered his head now to show he had been humbled as he felt the weight of his shameful betrayal towards her yet again. It occurred to him that he never should have run after her. Would it be too late to turn around and go back to the masquerade party and put on his mask?

The other side of that was that Kunal was just as _angry_ at her to think she was completely blameless for all of this. For all her talk of wisdom and maturity because of their age gap, she was the one who retaliated horribly just so she can keep him under her control. She made him feel like he had to grow up too soon and in consequence made him less of a person and more of the idealized man she desired for him to become when it simply wasn’t possible back then.  He tried though, he most certainly did, but in the end neither of them got what they wanted.

Kunal should address this pent-up rage, but he only stood there in bitter silence as he allowed the wave of anger to wash over him until it subsided. Faith said nothing further as well. After a few seconds, he saw a movement from the corner of his eyes, startling him enough that he looked up. He had expected that she would slap him, but instead she raised the pocket watch on her hand so he can look at its face. Kunal narrowed his eyes and saw that the watch had no numbers in them at all and both hands were moving—in opposite directions that was almost dizzying if you stare too long at them. He opened his mouth to say something but realized he had nothing to offer.

Faith took a small step forward next. The anger in her voice has dissipated, at least for now and not unless he provoked her again.

After looking him up and down, she then asked him point-blank. “Do you want me to take you there?”

“Where?” He could feel something was clouding his mind. He touched his temple and that simple action made him wince and hiss.

“My world,” she answered promptly as if the idea wasn’t silly, “…so you can meet the three fighters against time.”

“What? ‘ _Fighters_ ’? Seriously, Fei. What the fuck are you—”

“I’m terribly late and I have to go,” she turned around again and began to run. Kunal could only stare after her, shocked that she didn’t even have the decency to properly end their conversation, as nonsense and stupid as it was.

That was when he heard her calling out with a voice so clear it felt like it was coming directly from inside his head.

“You’re free to follow me if you’re that curious. But do mind the hole and your landing.”

Kunal willed his legs to move which he did awkwardly at first as if he had forgotten how to walk let alone run. Once he found the momentum, however, he chased after her. This time the distance between them was shorter than earlier. He can even reach out and grab hold of the hem of her dress if he must, but every time his fingers came close to clutch at some tangible part of her, Faith would nonetheless slip through.

It was maddening! This woman Kunal had once loved and tried to change himself for was now such a hateful, treacherous thing who's leading him into a passage he had not realized was a trap until his feet was no longer on solid ground.

She did warn him about a hole earlier, but the falling still took him by surprise. It didn’t feel like it could ever end.

 

 

 

✧

 

 

 

As he fell face forward into the unknown abyss, Kunal could have sworn there were red lights blinking from the darkness below.

An automated voice said, “Citizen, please allow the system to scan you for identification.”

On instinct, Kunal covered his face with the back of his hand, exposing his palm. He wanted to show his bio print but whatever was under there denied him access. It just repeated the question. Something inside him felt like it was going to burst, possibly due to the air pressure as he traveled down in a speed which would prove fatal once gravity took hold later on. Before panic could completely take over, Kunal recalled the old man from the transit an hour ago. He really didn’t have any choice but to try doing that again.

Trembling in desperation, Kunal used his thumb and made a gesture of pressing it against an invisible screen below.

Blue lights twinkled twice and the next thing he knew he had just slammed right into what looked and felt to be a massive pile of dried leaves and twigs. He was dropped right at the peak of it since the entire monstrosity resembled a smaller hill. Some of the twigs pierced against several parts of his body. The entire thing curtailed his fall, sure, but he’s pretty certain he now has several scratches on the face of his skin and hands. Worse, he can feel blood trickling down his left temple. Kunal reached out to touch his scalp and to his abject horror, he found that there was a cut. The warm blood gushed through his fingers, staining them bright red. The sight of it made his stomach curl.

“Fucking brilliant!” he shouted at no one because Faith wasn’t here and he wished she was so he can scream at her instead.

Fuck that woman and her stilted speech and weird nonsense and whatever this was supposed to be!

“Fuck you, Faith!” He muttered under his breath as he now started climbing down the horribly dingy pile of dead leaves and sharp twigs. He kept struggling not to get his legs caught in the bigger branches. He used those for purchase instead, pushing his feet into their sturdy girth so he can continue moving downwards. Kunal can hardly see what awaits on the ground below, but he’s rather eager to just get this over with so he hurried, ignoring how the sleeves of his tuxedo got snagged along the way, unraveling a few seams.

This was all Faith’s fault and he intended to hold her accountable.

But first: where the hell is he?

Kunal reached the ground which was cemented, thank the gods. He started testing its realness by jumping on it up and down. Doing so made him feel like an idiot and it always makes him angry whenever that happens. In frustration, he took off his blazer and threw it against the pile. He then began unbuttoning his sleeves and rolling them up to his elbows. Suspicious and wary eyes glanced around the area. It looked like a room somewhere in the estate where the masquerade ball was held, which makes sense. The hill before him therefore stuck out like a sore thumb and looked like it belonged more outside someone’s yard; someone who swept the leaves together from a thousand autumns into one messy clusterfuck. He crinkled his nose in disgust and turned away.

Once he had calmed down significantly, Kunal picked a direction to walk into next. He tried to make his footsteps as muted as possible, as if he didn’t want to cause any disturbance. There was no discernible hallway at all which he can tread. This room looked like an auditorium of some sort, given how spacious it was. He followed that one direction, however, as silence became his only guide and companion as he tried to find some kind of exit out of this. This went on for a few minutes until he can’t help himself and called out, “Fei? Fei, if you can hear me you better answer right now! I’m not mad, okay? I just need to know if you’re safe. Please…say something. Anything!”

He wanted her safe, alright, because he may not get a chance to give her some rough tongue-lashing later if she did end up dead or something. It was a little harsh to think about something awful like that happening—especially to someone he used to love, but Faith de la Fuego is simply not his most favorite person at the moment. As far as he’s concerned, she had singularly become the root of all that’s wrong in his life.

Kunal was about to keep walking in the same direction when his eyes traveled upwards unconsciously. What he saw made him stop dead on his tracks. Blinking in incredulity as slow-curling panic rose from the pit of his stomach, he uttered an inaudible, “What?”

Chandeliers. There was an unbelievable number of chandeliers hanging by the ceiling.

Suddenly everything about this place looked familiar; every square foot and every inch a nightmare.

“That’s not possible,” he muttered as he took a few steps back, eyes still on the chandeliers. “But why—how did—?”

Kunal wasn’t even sure what the right questions are. His mind was racing with too many that his mouth can’t articulate them all.

“Hello?” he called out, his query echoing across the empty auditorium which was supposed to be filled by the other attendees of the masquerade ball. The more Kunal looked, however, the more he was sure that this entire goddamn place had been deserted for years. There was no trace of evidence that would suggest it had been recently occupied, let alone by hundreds of people in masks. Maybe it’s an identical room?

The chandeliers above him, all crammed together like crystal knives, seemed to suggest otherwise.

“Fuck!” he uttered as a thin layer of cold sweat began to gather on his back. “Where did you take me to, Faith?”

Mу ωσяℓ∂, her voice echoed, ѕσ уσυ cαη мєєт тнє тняєє ƒιgнтєяѕ αgαιηѕт тιмє..

“This is some ridiculous _Haruhi Suzumiya_ bullshit, is what it is!” he blurted out into the emptiness of the space. “Fuck this shit!”

He crumpled the handkerchief in his hand and then ran back to the pile of leaves and twigs from where he climbed off from. Kunal stepped into one of the branches as he looked upwards so he can find the hole. There was nothing there but more chandeliers.

No, that’s not—he remembered falling from somewhere! He’s not going crazy, is he?

Why the fuck is this even happening to him?! He was supposed to just attend some upper-class party and then go home, possibly with some one-night stand and then go back to work the next day. Why did he get himself caught up with an ex-girlfriend who was supposed to be just a distant memory? Of all the women he had to approach, why did it have to be the one he had not thought about for years?

As frustration and fear mingled in his chest, hardening his resolve to figure out how to get himself out of this mess, Kunal broke off one of the larger branches and carried that with him. He wasn’t sure exactly what he intended to do with it just yet, but then he heard what was unmistakably a hissing sound coming from some unlit corner of the auditorium. Kunal stayed still, listening in anticipation as he slowly brought the branch upwards to protect himself with it. It was hard, considering his heartbeat was thunderous, echoing in his ears as well.

The hissing was growing louder now and coming close, and yet he still couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. Was it invisible? How goddamn unlucky would that be? Kunal was determined, however, not to die in anonymity. That’s not a good death.

Just when he thought he’s going to have to fight for his life, he heard something else—a decidedly a human voice.

“Oi!” it said, the tone rather scolding, “You get out of here. He’s not supposed to see you yet! Out!”

Kunal’s eyebrows knitted together in contrition but just the small fact that there was another person here in the room gave him some form of temporary relief. His eyes desperately searched for the source of that voice. To his mild surprise, he spotted the pair of twin butlers who guarded the entry to the masquerade ball. Their familiar faces and matching outfits made Kunal relax; the stiffening on his shoulders finally disappearing as he stepped closer to them. His knuckles have gone white as he gripped the branch so tightly but now that he was reassured he wasn’t alone and that he wasn’t going to die, he slowly brought down the branch to his side.

One of the twins turned his attention to Kunal and beamed. “Hey there! Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to give you a scare with that nasty thing!”

“What—what was that supposed to be? Some…kind of creature?”

“Yeah, you see, I can’t tell you,” the first butler said as he slowly took off his mask, revealing a plump face that seemed to be perpetually smiling. “See, we’re too far from the finale and it’s just not proper to get to the last page before enjoying the middle parts, you know.”

Kunal scoffed as he walked towards the pair. “And why not? What is going on here? Where are we?”

The two exchanged a look. The other twin kept his mask on and just stared rather intensely at Kunal which made him instinctively shift his weight on his other foot, feeling foolishly self-conscious all of a sudden. Something was really off with this twin. Clearing his throat, he tried asking again, “Where are we? Why does this look like the same room where the ball was held earlier? Where are the others?”

Instead of answering his questions, the more amicable twin replied, “Ignore my brother. Frowning is his default expression. Not a very people-person and he especially doesn’t like the Alices who come by here. Thinks they’re all ‘self-entitled seekers of the higher self’. His words, not mine.” He started giggling. “Anyway, I don’t have a problem with most of the Alices, really.”

“The what now?” Kunal was becoming more baffled as this conversation went on. “What are we even talking about?”

“Oh, yes. Um, well, I guess I should say—congratulations! You’re the new Alice…apparently. We’re bound to have a male Alice. I mean, why not? It doesn’t have to be a gendered thing now, does it? I mean, even the name. Alice Cooper is a guy after all.”

The smiling twin was even worse than his scary-looking brother. Kunal gasped out, “This is insane!”

“Mad, yes! And we’re all mad here. Oh, that’s not supposed to be my line. Spoilers.”

“I’m no Alice!” he insisted while gritting his teeth. “My name is Kunal.”

“Well Kunal-Alice, welcome to your Wonderland!” He spread out his arms for dramatic effect and then stopped, sheepishly chuckling as he added, “Hmm, not sure if I should actually announce that. A little on the nose that I just did, don’t you think?”

Kunal shook his head, stepping away from these assholes as his panic began to worsen. Somehow he wished that scary invisible creature was the one he’s speaking to. “I need to get out of here. Can somebody please just show me the way out of here?”

“You and me both!” the only talking twin reached out to sling his arm around Kunal, “Honestly though, ‘Alice’ has been done to death. I mean, how many times do we have to keep doing this Wonderland shtick before we all move on, right?”

Kunal shoved him away. His eyes were alive now with anger as he demanded. “Where the fuck is Faith? I followed her here. She’s the reason I’m in this mess to begin with! If she’s playing some kind of prank on me and you guys are in on it, there will be hell to pay!”

Shockingly, the other twin answered. His voice was a monotone, completely devoid of emotion.

“Anyone who follows the White Rabbit means they’re lost and are in dire need to seek a path to find themselves.”

Are these assholes for real?!

“Enough with that bullshit!” he shouted at both butlers as he cast aside the branch. “And she’s not a ‘white rabbit’. She’s just a woman. Her name is Faith _motherfucking_ de la Fuego, and I wish I have never met her at all!” he raised a fist, the one still clutching the bloody handkerchief. “If I hadn’t, then I would have been right back at the masquerade ball, drinking myself into stupor as I enjoy the rest of this boring night!”

The smiling twin interjected, “I’ll tell you one thing though, Kunal-Alice.”

“It’s just Kunal! And I am not participating in this twisted version of a children’s story!”

“If you follow the White Rabbit, that always means that you’re embarking a personal journey,” he continued on, the smile seemingly mischievous now. “And she’s going to take you to places that will not be boring at all.”

“Give me 'boring' any day!” Kunal proclaimed with finality, “If it meant not having to chase that damnable woman anymore!”

But the twins were both laughing now. The stern one was actually laughing and at Kunal at that!

Almost ominously, the smiling piece of shit stepped closer, crowding Kunal’s space as he remarked, “Oh, but you will keep chasing her everywhere in your Wonderland, Kunal-Alice. That’s the fate every Alice is doomed to follow. It’s how the story had always gone…”

And before Kunal can interrupt, he then lowered his voice into a theatrical whisper and poked him on the nose, saying, “…spoilers!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 


	3. Choices

 

 

 

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**3**

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“With nowhere else to really go to while coming to terms with the bleak understanding of the hopeless absurdity of his situation, Kunal-Alice—who rather vehemently insisted over and over that he should not be called anything other than just plain and boring ‘Kunal’—joined the twins in a journey to the woods because at least this handsome and dashing pair knew their way around the territory Kunal-Alice was destined to be trapped in until his fatal encounter—” A nervous laugh followed next, “Oh, I almost slipped there...”

The smiling piece of shit who introduced himself as ‘Dumas’ a few moments ago back in the creepily vacant auditorium, continued to test Kunal’s patience by tirelessly narrating their ‘adventure’ together as if there’s an audience or reader they all need to perform for. Now for his part of this demented play, Kunal was dragging his feet as he trudged on, determined to prolong this agony as long as possible whilst he devised a plan in his head to elude the twins once he was sure he can find his own way out. So far, he had come up short.

He hasn’t really been listening to the nonsense Dumas was spewing out although he did roll his eyes at the ‘fatal encounter’ phrase once he heard it. He was simply not interested in assigning any kind of authenticity to this experience as a whole. To do so means he was giving up on rationality and it’s truly the only thing holding him together at the moment.

They have been climbing down a ridiculously long spiral staircase in what felt like an hour already. The steps themselves were wide and carpeted at first but every so often they become steep and iron-made if not dangerously rickety. Before Kunal could comment on that transformation, the staircase would retract back to the way it was before as if he had only imagined its meager state from earlier. That was bad. It meant he might be hallucinating which would make sense if the fatigue was getting to him. Just trekking this staircase was so incredibly exhausting and repetitive that it made Kunal's patience wear thin. It didn’t help at all when he asked the other men, “What woods? What do you mean we're going to the woods?”, that the twins ignored him for several seconds before the cheery one answered in the most unacceptable way imaginable:

“Every good horrific story starts in the woods, silly Alice.”

Fuck no. If he’ll be walking into some forest in the middle of the night with two strangers, he better had no other options left or at the very least a weapon to defend himself with. With a derisive snort, he argued as best as he could, “My name is Kunal—and you need to stop calling me Alice because I’m NOT Alice. And I won’t be taking one more step unless you elaborate on everything I need to know. I’m tired, I’m bleeding and I’m very much on edge. I’d rather know right now where you’re taking me.”

“Typical Alice,” the fucker slowly faced him with another bright smile, “Always with the questions.”

 _I should murder you_ , he thought as real bitterness crossed over his features before he managed to compose himself just in time before he blows up on them. Since he knew now that he will only continue to receive more evasive answers, he decided to do the only logical thing left and fish for the pockets of his blazer which he had put back on in spite of its dirtied and tattered appearance. His Clay wasn’t damaged, thank gods, and he turned it on so he can use the most reliable application for maps. Seeing that red dot on the screen that showed that he was still inside the Windforth Mansion made him breathe a sigh of relief.

Good, good. So he hasn’t been transported in some magical place or some bullshit like that.

Kunal kept his tone as neutral as possible when he explained to the butlers, “I am done with this. I’m going to arrange for a ride home and neither of you will stop me. I have to get my wounds treated first, thanks to all that commotion earlier. And yes, thank you so much for all the pain and confusion and just being an overall waste of my time, gentlemen, but I think this would be the perfect time for me to head on my way.”

He stood still by the steps with a haughty demeanor all throughout while the twins remained below him, staring up in silence. Kunal began curling his thumb to explore the app that gives anyone access to public gliders that can be rented at the cheapest price. He cannot wait to go home and just put this all behind him. While still tinkering with his Clay, he briefly glanced at his wrist watch next—something he should have done from the very start.

“If he had, then he would have noticed,” Dumas began narrating again, picking up right after Kunal's horrified silence as he stared unblinkingly at his own watch. The hands were spinning in opposite directions of one another as if two lines that refuse to meet even as they intersect with every spin. It was just like Faith’s weird pocket watch from earlier. What could it mean? Is the mechanism damaged somehow because due to his fall earlier? But even so, he cannot recall a single incident that a broken watch would have its hands move strangely like that. It didn’t look like a malfunction at all, to be honest. It seemed as if the speed and manner in which they traveled was methodical, if not ominous.

He could only stare at this upsetting phenomenon for another moment as the cold wave of panic and apprehension sinks in. He almost dropped his Clay as he ceased moving his thumb, especially now that he was beginning to suspect that wherever he is (in spite that the maps stated he was still somewhere inside the mansion), it clearly wasn’t his city anymore. There will be no gliders that can get here to take him away.

How could he have denied it so long after what he had just seen and experienced? That vacant auditorium with those chandeliers—the inexplicable way he fell from a hole in the ceiling that wasn’t even there and then landing on a tall pile of leaves and twigs—and afterwards he almost encountered that invisible, hissing creature. Standing stuck there on the flight of stairs, Kunal was now able to put everything that happened in perspective, and he felt even more lost than before. This isn’t right. This really can’t be happening to him…

Worst of all, he still doesn’t know what really happened to Faith and where she might be at the moment. She could be hurt. She could be scared. But before he could further worry about her, a part of him began to consider the possibility that he might be getting ahead of himself. After all, that bitch had to be the most fearless person he had ever known. And isn’t she’s the one who got him stuck here? He shouldn’t care about her.

_Fuck you, Faith._

“What would have I noticed?” he muttered as he lifted his gaze to meet Dumas'. He can’t help the way his voice shook as the reality of the situation was making him very tense and unsure of what to do next. “You said that if I only looked at my watch earlier…” he trailed off because he simply did not have the strength to go on and make sense of this madness.

“This is Wonderland,” Dumas sounded patient enough as he climbed once to meet Kunal halfway the steps. His expression was kind but the words coming out of his smiling mouth were still terrifying. “Well, this is a version of Wonderland, that is. There have been so many others as long as an Alice has a need for a Wonderland. And you’re the Alice of this one.”

“I don’t want to be here anymore,” he must have gone numb as the fear registered too clearly on his face because Dumas now reached forward to lay a hand on his cheek; something a concerned parent would have done for his own child. His fingers were warm, making Kunal lean into the touch unconsciously in spite of himself. “Can’t I just go home?”

“It will be a great burden to carry on as Alice at this stage at first, Kunal,” Dumas at last addressed him with his real name and now looked at him as if he saw the other man now as a person and not just something who was supposed to fill the role of whoever this Alice was supposed to be, “But my brother and I aren’t just here to be pretty, no. We are here so we can help you stand back up after you’d stumble through here. And you will be stumbling far more than you would like. All of the Alices did. And we have been there every single time.”

Somehow the compassion that Dumas was showing him at the moment helped him feel slightly comfortable and trusting. Kunal nodded to indicate that he can follow the conversation as he pocketed his Clay back inside his blazer. Gathering his wits about him, Kunal took deep breaths while Dumas withdrew his hand and patted him amicably on his shoulder instead. The other brother just stayed where he was, opting to stare blankly as always. There was no use denying his current situation. It’s time to make the best of it now.

“Can you tell me more as to why time works weirdly around here?” As he asked that, he took off his wristwatch and stared down at the bizarre hands moving around each other. “And why does my phone say I’m still in Windforth? Is it—some sort of an alternate reality?”

He can’t believe he’s truly embracing this, but what else can he do? He can at least rationalize his situation. The one thing that he was most concerned about aside from getting out and going home was, naturally, the woman who brought him here. He still resented her attitude from before and the fact that she got him into this mess, but Kunal was not as heartless as he would often pretend. Whatever she may have done, Faith didn’t deserve anything bad to happen to her, of course. “I also need to know if Faith is here. Is she okay?”

“Wonderland is Wonderland,” the unfriendly twin instead replied from below the steps before he turned around so he can keep walking while he explained, “Time had been hijacked by the Queens as some sort of pissing contest to prove nothing and everything to each other. Because of that, time no longer exists in Wonderland. And as the new Alice, you need to restore time and save the day. That’s your hero’s journey.”

He sounded both surly and bored with his own elaboration, and Kunal could not fault him on that. “Me? Save Wonderland, restore time and be a hero?” The entire thing was just utterly stupid the more he thought about it! Who came up with these things? “And what would Faith do? What does she have at stake? I mean, she was the one who took me here and apparently she’s also the designated ‘White Rabbit’. I need to understand why she said something about being ‘late’. Is that all a part of the spiel?”

“This isn’t a game,” the other twin—whose name Kunal still hasn’t learned yet—swung abruptly as he climbed a few steps closer to lock gazes. “Do you accept that you’re Alice and the sacrifices that would entail? Are you brave enough to save Wonderland?”

“Now hold up!” Kunal glared nervously at him and then shot Dumas a concerned look. “I’m not even sure what I’m signing for! And what are these ‘sacrifices’? Look, how do you expect me to put my own damn life on the line when none of this makes any sense to me, let alone why I should care!” He backed away from the twin as he could feel the pressure of that stare almost bending him to the other man’s will.

“Dustin,” his brother spoke up at last as he placed himself between Kunal and said twin. “You shouldn’t antagonize him,” the tone he used was sadder than usual, a contrast to his disposition. “Kunal-Alice should be willing to accept his fate, remember? Bullying him is never the solution. You should have learned this by now; given the history you had with the previous Alices.”

The position was awkward for all of them as they stood there together, considering the staircase wasn’t exactly as spacious as before and now Dustin was blocking everyone’s way down. Kunal only took notice that the carpet for the stairs was gone and replaced instead with varnish that was chipped on several edges. The steps themselves alternate between wood and cement and at the moment Kunal was stepping on a wooden one. It creaked underneath him as he moved up to rest his other foot on a cemented stair. Shifting his weight was harder than it looked; he was getting this distinct feeling that everything below him could collapse. The fear was potent even if it was irrational. And Dustin was not helping as he kept confronting Kunal about things that only serve to heighten his panic.

“What do you mean about his history with the previous Alices?” To combat the apprehension, Kunal decided to ask more pressing questions. “Did he—did he hurt them in some way? Was he always this aggressive and mean to anyone who is an Alice?”

Dumas was going to answer on behalf of his brother, but then Dustin stepped forward, shoving his twin aside with enough force that Dumas had to find purchase on a ledge so he won’t lose balance completely.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, boy,” He must have struck a chord in Dustin because the next thing he knows, the butler’s usually blank eyes had changed into something positively dangerous as he reached out suddenly to grab Kunal by his wrist, almost pulling him down. Panic kicked in but it turned into anger just as quickly as Kunal struggled to break free from the other man’s tight clutch.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He managed to wriggle free as he tried to push off the butler this time; not caring that he could fall from such a high place. However, Dustin was faster than he looked and avoided the contact. He was able to grab hold of the hand Kunal used to try and shove him away. That hand was still gripping on his wristwatch. Due to the battle of strength happening between them, Dustin squeezed down on Kunal’s fist and only stopped when they both heard something break inside. The previous expression of malcontent and quiet rage on both men’s faces faltered and they immediately disengaged.

“I apologize,” Dustin spoke up first as Dumas finally righted himself and then stepped back between the two other men to prevent further trouble. “I lost myself a little. I didn’t mean to attack you, Mr. Kunal— _Alice_ _._ I hope you can forgive—” 

“I’m not Alice,” Kunal’s tone was flat, devoid of any emotion, as he just stood there and examined the broken wristwatch; a family heirloom he never realized was that important to him up until this point. He couldn’t describe exactly how he feels at the moment. It was a conflicting mixture of emotions he can’t spell out, even to himself. “Just—let’s just keep going, okay? To a forest, you said?”

Dumas’ hand was on him this time, his palm and fingers resting on the same wrist his brother had just abused moments ago, “Right, yes. We need to keep going, Alice. All these distractions will only slow us down.”

He turned around to wave at his brother to keep climbing down the steps until all three of them finally resumed walking together.

“Oh dear,” Dumas remarked as they reached what looked to be the final curve of the spiral staircase, “It’s already nightfall, isn’t it? The forest path can be tricky to navigate at this point. We must hurry!”

“Unless we gain passage with the Mirrors,” Dustin suggested in a somber tone as he glanced upwards to his brother and Kunal. A pregnant silence followed among t-hem, but Kunal was still pretty morose about his broken watch that he couldn’t care less. _Mirrors? That sounds like an intriguing plot twist to this sick play_ , he thought sullenly to himself. And it was obvious that it was an option neither twin considered until now.

“The Mirrors are not to be trusted, brother,” Dumas’ expression hardened as if the very idea repulsed him. Kunal was once again at the top of the steps, staring down so he can observe the two men’s odd behavior as he listened to their opposing views about these ‘mirrors’. Dustin seemed only opened to the idea of using them because he would rather not venture into the blackest of night, expressing concern about what could lurk beyond the dark shade. Meanwhile, Dumas stressed that the Mirrors are instruments of deception and must be accessed sparingly. Apparently, to use them now is not only desperate but foolish.

“We have Alice with us,” Dustin dared to meet Kunal’s gaze as he announced that in a gentler tone none of them had heard until now, “The mirrors are always very fond of the Alices, aren’t they? Don’t you think they would make an exception because he’s here with us?” A short pause. “I don’t want to travel the forest at this time of night, Dumas, and we certainly shouldn’t risk Alice’s safety. And believe me, that’s what we’ll be doing if we come across the Nightmares. This Alice—” he nodded towards Kunal as his frown deepened, “—is not strong enough yet and definitely lacks the right tools of magic to fight. He can’t even accept his calling yet!”

Kunal was never a fan of people talking about him as if he’s not even in the room, and so was about to interject especially after hearing that puzzling phrase about ‘magic’, but then Dumas didn’t let him get a word in at all and countered instead, “And do you think he can survive an encounter with the Mirrors unscathed? Nightmares can tear into his flesh and pull his limbs off, that’s true, but the Mirrors are experts on psychological violence which has far more damaging effects!”

“Guys,” Now Kunal felt that this was the right time for him to interrupt and put his two cents in, “Can’t we just pick a direction and go? I’m tired and famished and in bad need of a bath and maybe some shuteye.” He can’t help but that the tone he used now sounded a tad whiny. Kunal was also very ready to dismiss their concerns for safety. With a haughty tone, he added, “So we got these Nightmares and Mirrors, huh?—I mean, so what?” He rubbed his fingers on his left temple while the other hand continued to clutch on his wristwatch. “Look, if those are my only options in choosing which one had to be the lesser evil, then I guess I’m picking the latter, mostly since it has the less threatening name. How can a fucking mirror hurt me anyway?” He crossed his arms over his chest and then dragged his weight through his feet as he stepped down.

“Alice, didn’t you hear what I just said—” Dumas protested as his tone rose into something a little shrill.

“Yes, I heard about the psychological violence…” Kunal merely walked past him without so much as a glance while Dustin voluntarily got out of his way, keeping his eyes downcast as if still ashamed for losing his temper earlier and breaking something precious of Kunal’s. This was definitely a good moment where Kunal felt that he indeed has the upper hand. It’s about time he took charge and commanded these two insufferable fools. If he must be their Alice, then he will be fucking Alice—but an Alice on his own terms.

Kunal can’t suppress the weak yet sly smile now forming across his lips.

“I need to go home so the sooner we get going, the better,” he muttered under his breath as he measured his steps on the staircase. There was a steely, determined look in his dark eyes the entire time. Pocketing his broken wristwatch since he knew he has no more time to grieve what was already damaged, Kunal adjusted the sleeves of his blazer to hide the bruise now growing on the wrist Dustin gripped onto moments ago. He then wiped his palm from his chest and then down to his abdomen to smooth down any creases on his shirt.

“But not until I find Faith first.”

 


	4. Reflections

 

 

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**4**

✧༺༻✧༺༻✧

 

 

 

 

The executive decision Kunal imposed on his companions had been declared confidently enough that even _he_ was quick to buy his own bullshit; but the fact was, he couldn’t possibly know for certain that he was making the right choice. It was a bold move, though, to make any decision at all and think about the consequences later. Kunal didn’t want to invite that rather grim thought since it wasn’t comforting, but it was better than allowing himself to fall back into stagnancy or, worse yet, denial.

Because, whatever the fuck this was, it was as real as it could get.

The staircases they’ve been previously walking down in had made way to transform into a carpeted ground. Kunal didn’t have any time to test the appearance of that when it suddenly shifted into a well-mowed flat grass. With an impatient frown, he stopped staring at his feet and focused on the path ahead. He could tell that they had to be inside a mansion—or some sort of structure. They were still surrounded by walls lined up with small electric lights after all, but the ground beneath them was most definitely grass. He didn’t care how that happened. At this point, asking why things are topsy-turvy would only delay their journey.

“Are the Mirrors close by?” he addressed Dumas, the cheery twin who had by now lost his bad habit of smiling and narrating incessantly. He looked almost older because of the prominent frown etched on his face. It was obvious that he didn’t want to be leading them to the monstrosity he swore up and down earlier could damage them ‘psychologically’.

His brother Dustin was the one who responded, “We keep walking in a straight line and that’s it. The mirrors will show up all on their own once they’ve decided they want to accommodate us.”

And then Dumas scoffed, “That’s a grossly understated way of saying they’d prey on us and leave us to be nothing more than the empty shells of our former selves.”

Kunal didn’t offer any comment to either man. His steps faltered a bit too as if his own hesitation just betrayed him, and Dumas noticed that soon enough. He grabbed Kunal by the elbow and stopped him on his tracks all of a sudden. “What now—”

“We don’t have to push forward with this suicide mission,” he whispered right into Kunal’s ear, “This is not how you want to start your quest as an Alice. It’s a basic rookie mistake.”

“Would you let the boy make his own decisions?” Dustin interjected, wrapping his own hand around his brother’s collar to straighten him out, “And didn’t you say so yourself long ago that we are only here to facilitate the process of the Alice’s self-discovery but not influence their actions in any way that lean towards our own preferences?”

“Okay,” Kunal faced both men with a wry smile, pocketing his hands. His composure was intact as he eyed the twins with a bemused expression this time, “One of these days you have got to show me whatever rulebook you are pulling out all of these incessant and terribly colored commentaries about ‘Alice’ and this ‘self-discovery’ crap.”

“Sure, Kunal-Alice,” Dumas almost rolled his eyes at him. He then shoved his brother off him and fixed his collar, huffing as he did. “If we ever survive the oncoming atrocity of the Mirrors, then I’ll be more than happy to let you get a peek under the curtains. In fact, I’ll deliver you the entire script meself—starting with your near-death at the hands of the…well, well, since you’re so intent on punishing yourself with brain damage right now, perhaps I won’t even have to tell you how the story must end.”

Kunal chuckled. He almost felt sorry for Dumas, but he was also actually enjoying the apparent agony the other man was going through. It was his comeuppance, if anything else. Spinning around once, Kunal resumed walking as he ignored whatever protestations would spew out from Dumas. He already made his decision and he planned to see it through.

There was one other thing though.

“Do you either of you think I’ll ever find Faith?” As he spoke about her again, his demeanor changed, making him rather morose. His mind began racing as swiftly as the beating of his own heart, and it was making him sick to feel this exposed and ripe for the taking. Earlier his small brawl with the twins kept him preoccupied enough to forget that there was someone else who could fill the rest of his senses with dread and foreboding like nothing before. Of course, the reason for that was Faith. And just like that, he was seventeen again.

His concern for her at present had only continued to deepen the more bizarre his situation was becoming. Who knows what could be happening to Fey at present? She could be seriously hurt and stranded somewhere. She could be dealing with her own share of unhelpful companions who speak in aggravating riddles.

Or she could be long gone.

Dead.

That single thought made him uneasy. His steps slowed down as tension spread across his shoulders before coiling in his gut. Should he even entertain that awful scenario? Long ago he used to believe _Faith will outlast us all_ because she always struck him as the kind of woman who could bend even the forces of nature to her will.

But these are dangerous times. This was another place in time and the rules were different.

What if she was dead? What would Kunal do then if he’ll never have a real closure with the first woman he had ever loved?

He would at least like to tell her that she’d been a bitch, and that she sucks for getting him trapped here in ‘Wonderland’. Just hearing that term echoing in his head was enough to send him into a fit of rage. This was all so stupid! He is _not_ Alice and this is _not_ Wonderland!

“Oh, fuck you, Faith,” he muttered under his breath.

Yes, anger is better. If he just focused on that emotion and suffocated every thought he would have of her with nothing else but unspoken fury, then he would never have to deal with any other unresolved emotions surrounding it. He must despise Faith. It’s all the weapon he has against her coming back and shifting the continents of his world once more.

“Well you’re going to need more than faith if you want to—”

“Piss off, Dumas. I meant her!” Kunal almost growled out the words, “Faith de la Fuego, my—I meant…” he trailed off before he released a sigh, “…an old friend.”

“She sounds more like an ex-girlfriend to me,” Dustin remarked, sounding completely unaffected by all of this as if he couldn’t be bothered with the looming threat of the Mirrors or the awkwardness of this conversation, “So that’s it then? Makes sense. She’s become your White Rabbit on two levels because you and she had a previous affair. And now those two levels are muddled into a grand mess of heartbreak and disease.”

“You don’t know shit,” Kunal scoffed, gritting his teeth once before he shook his head. That statement hit too close to home and it annoyed him every time someone else had the better insight than him. “And just when I thought we are finally getting along.”

“Well, I think ‘a grand mess of heartbreak and disease’ sounds like an autobiography that writes itself for you, Alice.”

“And you can go to hell too, Dumas.”

“You’re practically leading us there, boss.”

They forged ahead in silence for the next ten minutes. It was still very much the interior of the mansion they were exploring, but the light bulbs that decorated the walls were growing dimmer as the three men moved with caution across the hallway. The grass-carpet that stretched beneath their feet seemed to also grow taller an inch the further they went, and Kunal even recognized tiny blue and yellow flowers have began to sprout out.

Their beauty was an odd displacement, almost like a mockery against the grim ambiance of what was an otherwise corridor of horrors. He picked one of the blue flowers though, and tucked its stalk neatly into the breast pocket of his blazer. Blue was always his favorite color.

For some reason, a surge of vanity made him want to look presentable in case, well, he encountered Faith soon. If she didn’t already die, that is. Not to impress her—of course not, because he doesn’t care what she thinks. He just wanted to seem less like he had just been repeatedly attacked and fucked by sentient woodland, which was exactly how he looked like or worse, if the gods were not wiling. Kunal dusted off the grime from his blazer next and tried to keep the creases on his dress shirt to a minimum at least as he pretended not to notice how the twins have been muttering to each other behind his back.

Their whispers turned harsher until he could already hear snippets of their argument pretty well. With exhaustion wearing him thin and cranky, Kunal jerked his head towards them, “Just shut up, idiots! Bickering won’t help any of us, would it?”

His gaze flickered towards the never-ending path still ahead, “I really could use that wash now. And I’m so close to cannibalizing you fat shits if we don’t find some place to stay tonight that actually has something edible aside from these…”

Kunal gestured at the mushrooms with a derisive snort escaping his lips. “I mean, really? Where are we that there is grass everywhere and flowers and now goddamn mushrooms? And if either of you even farts the W-word again, I will flip every non-existent, hypothetical table found in simultaneously existing alternate realities. Understood?”

Neither twin spoke up, not even with a snide comment.

“Thank you!” Kunal adjusted his blazer by roughly tugging down at it before he went for his collar so he can rip out the stupid bow tie. “Now let’s keep moving. I just want to get this over with. Are we actually close by or…”

He kept fumbling at his bow tie, but as soon as he turned, the brothers were simply gone.

“Dumas? Dustin?” Of course, Kunal tried to act calm and composed, but his irregular, thumping pulse betrayed his panic. Swallowing a sharp lump lodged in his throat, he stayed motionless on his spot just in case there was something else now there with him which he didn’t want alerting his presence to. You just never know with Wonderland.

Fuck, he said ‘Wonderland’.

“This isn’t happening to me,” he muttered under his breath as he clutched at his bow tie, seeking to strengthen his resolve just by squeezing it like a good luck charm. His breathing was becoming labored also, clouding his sight. Is he hyperventilating? The last time he got anxiety attacks was way back in middle school. “Why did this have to happen to me?”

Kunal wanted to close his eyes due to instinct yet he willed himself not to since he was terrified that as soon as he would, bad things will start happening. Not like they wouldn’t do that anyway especially now that he’s alone, unarmed and just about ready to quit.

No, that’s just the anxiety attack talking. He still had his wits. Kunal needed to make it. If not for himself, then at least for Faith because he knew she was still out there, waiting for him. There’s nothing like good, old-fashioned chivalry to keep a man awake and alert, isn’t there? It certainly was an effective distraction from his doom, and it gave him the courage he needed to resist the fear long enough to move forward, rushing past the blades of grass that had reached his waist at some point whilst he trekked the hallway as silently as he could.

Growing more confident, Kunal sprinted without stopping for breath, allowing his mind to empty out any needless contemplation that would only slow him down. The goal at the moment was to get to a safe place. Next was to find a weapon to defend himself with.

Running through the corridors without any sign of a corner to turn to next made it feel as if he was just going around in the same path without actually moving. But the fatigue and muscle pain that were overtaking him were very much real. He was becoming nearly sluggish until he found himself bent down with his hands on his knees, gasping for air. So much for his daily exercise regimen. Kunal was pretty sure he had more endurance than this though.

It was this creepy landscape that was messing with him. The light bulbs had flickered for a few weak moments before shutting down entirely, and he was smothered by the dark.

“I just want to go home,” he muttered, breathless. He felt more lost than ever. “I want to go home and…”

A stream of light from his left side perforated through the terrifying gloom and his aloneness. It was followed by music and laughter, echoing so fiercely that they were hard to ignore. Relief washed over his body as soon as Kunal lifted his head, but his mind was also gripped by confusion as another sense of dread crept in. His eyes now tried to make sense of what was going on just in time as he spotted Dumas and Dustin standing there by the open doorway. They stared down at him with identical masks fixed upon their faces; one brother was smiling and the other frowning. It reminded Kunal of those universal white theatre masks. Several seconds passed by before he was able to process the change in his surroundings. And then he rose from his position and hurriedly approached the twins.

“Where the fuck did you guys go off to?” was the first question he was able to summon. Almost angrily, he placed both hands on his hips and glowered at the fools.

Dumas and Dustin looked at one another first before the smiling twin answered, “Your invitation, please.”

“My what?” Kunal was still trying to catch his breath at this point.

“You will not be permitted entry to the ball if you do not have one, sir.”

At the back of his mind, he knew which pocket the invitation was tucked in inside his blazer, but Kunal didn’t bother taking it out just yet. He wanted to keep interrogating these two shitheads instead—right before his voice got caught in his throat as soon as he glimpsed a figure with short hair and who was clothed in a lacy white dress. He shouted out, “Faith! Faith de la Fuego!” before he even realized he was doing it. The twins had barricaded his way when he tried to step inside so he can chase after Fey in case she tried to run away again.

Luckily for him, the woman turned to his direction the moment she heard him call. She wore the same uniquely crafted ceramic mask with white vines twisting around its surface. They stared at each other from at least ten feet away before Faith began to move towards him. Even from afar, he could tell that something was different about her.

“There you are!” she greeted him. Her tone was oddly cheery. She even smiled. “Where did you run off too? I thought you were just getting us drinks. So…”

Faith looked at the twins briefly and then addressed Kunal again, “What were you doing outside instead?”

“I don’t know. What do you mean?” Kunal’s chest felt heavy because nothing made any goddamn sense anymore. He didn’t even know what to say so he just stood there, staring at her with what he likely assumed was a dumb expression on his face.

She just laughed and tapped Dustin by the arm, saying, “It’s okay. He’s with me. I think he had just gotten drunk way too soon and was having a party all by himself.”

To Kunal, she added, “Go on, handsome. Show them your card so you can come back in.”

This time he complied, although he still felt weird and detached from what was going on. Reaching from one of the pockets inside his blazer, he pulled out the invitation. That was when he noticed that his attire looked impeccable again. There were no torn seams at all.

“What?” he mouthed while he inspected the rest of his person. Even the cut on the back of his head wasn’t there, and so were the scratches on his arms and neck. Did he just imagine everything else that had happened? No, he couldn’t have conjured all that. He’s not even much of a fan of Alice in Wonderland, so where would he get that idea? Drugs? No, he’s always been clean as a whistle.

But could someone have passed him a hallucinogen earlier? Honestly, that theory sounded like a more logical possibility than actually being transported to a place where time has been ‘hijacked’ and he must go on a ‘quest’ to save it. What kind of wacko comes up with that if they weren’t either drugged or mentally disturbed? And Kunal is most definitely not the latter.

He wanted to talk to the twins but they merely ushered him back inside after muttering a faint apology about their misunderstanding moments ago. Afterwards they were back to guarding the door and looking at other people’s invitations as more of the guests came through. Faith pulled him by the arm the entire time as they slipped through the crowds. Her fingers were firm; he could feel them against his skin even through the barrier of clothing.

It made him almost _shiver_.

Before she could take him any further to wherever they were supposed to go together, Kunal seized her arm with enough force that could make her stop and face him.

“What’s going on with you?” she asked, staring up at him and looking very puzzled.

“What is this? Why are we here again?” Kunal’s other hand gripped her by the shoulder next. He was determined to never let her escape. “I don’t understand what’s happening. You kept running from me and I chased you through the hallways earlier and the next thing I know I ended up in this _other_ place. Things got scary. I was alone but I tried to find you—”

“How much of the vodka did you drink, Kunal?” she chuckled, acting like nothing was amiss but he knew everything right now was wrong.

“Don’t fuck around, Fey!” he tightened his clutch around her, pulling her even closer to him.

She should have squirmed away from his oppressive hold, or at least lose her temper at him (even hit him). Either of those things would have been a normal reaction, but she just wrapped one free arm around his neck instead and whispered, “You’re so dashing when you’re aggressive, do you know that?”

A hand brushed against his chest once before she grabbed a fistful of his dress shirt. “Baby, do you know why I fell in love with you?”

Kunal said nothing. He just kept glaring at her. Meanwhile, she smiled wider and did that seductive whispering thing that had always annoyed him but also endeared her to him. _This fucking woman._

“It’s because you have always been more honest with me when all you ever did your whole life was lie to yourself, Kunal.”

Even though the mask did a fine enough job to conceal everything else, that twinkle in her eye was still unmistakable.

It forced him into a corner, stealing air from his lungs. She might as well have wielded a knife against his throat right here, right now.

His tragic mistake was that he had stared too long into her eyes that he forgot the urgency of his panic from earlier and was suddenly overcome by these prickling sensations attacking his gut and chest. He should fight this off, but what real chance did he have to defend himself against something as familiar and forlorn as the enchantment of one’s first love?

Faith tiptoed to reach him until her lips were mere inches away from his own. Kunal couldn’t help himself at all and leaned down—because he was an idiot and she always had this special way of reminding him of that.

His body was simply acting on instinct; he would later reason out. And when Faith pressed her mouth against his before he could protest, he would tell himself that it was just a moment of weakness that swayed him. That’s all. The blood-red lipstick she wore was so warm and thick against him that there was no doubt anymore that this was real. It was happening. And he wanted it to happen, but only because his brain wasn’t working at the moment, and it was a good distraction from dealing with whatever shit storm he had just been through in…the W-word.

He would maintain that this was just a miscalculation even as her tongue latched around his own once he parted his lips to accept, and they twirled and entwined around each other with a hunger that reached below the surface of what was supposedly transient.

Kunal would reassure himself that he only responded the way he had because it was the reasonable thing to do. After all, he wasn’t in control of himself at this point. Lust and nostalgia have clouded his better judgment. Yes, that should be enough to explain why his hand on her shoulder loosened just so it could slither down and cup her back, and why his other hand was also now clutching her nape since he wanted to keep himself and Faith connected in this searing, gut-wrenching kiss that felt like a promise for something more.

He wasn’t sure how, but eventually he became strong enough to resist it and hence ripped himself away from her grasp to break whatever spell she had cast upon him just through the sheer command of those lips.

The force of that shared passion subsided soon enough, but he was still oddly out of breath, more so than when he ran around in the hallway earlier. Kunal wiped the remnants of lipstick from his mouth all while fixing his stare on her. He didn’t even want to blink, afraid that he might lose sight of her again. Once he regained his composure, he began to interrogate her.

“What happened to you?” he placed one hand on her elbow so he could guide her away from the crowd of people dancing around them. It was hard to hear each other because of the cacophony, so Kunal found them a secluded spot not far away from the bar where they could converse. Faith was compliant the entire time but didn’t speak. There was a calmness about her that was a stark contrast to the fiery disposition she displayed moments ago when she claimed his mouth. Still, he took advantage of it and kept peppering her with queries.

“We were dancing one minute and then you were running from me the next,” he weighed each sentence carefully as he went on, “I chased after you and then you started talking weird nonsense. That happened, right? Do you remember?”

She wasn’t even looking at him anymore. Her stillness was unsettling.

“Hey, Fey,” he shook her mildly at first but when she refused to respond, he tightened the grip around her elbow, “Look, I’m grasping on straws here and I don’t even know what’s real. But I know at least that you are since I can touch and hold onto you like this. Can you help me understand what’s been going on? Because I’m pretty sure I had made acquaintances with the butlers from the entrance yet they don’t recall—”

Kunal moved his gaze towards the direction where the doors are. Afterwards he shifted his eyes back to Faith who was still staring straight ahead. “I need to know what’s happening, Fey, and this time don’t speak in riddles, okay? You’re not very good at being a bullshitter. The Faith I knew back then was always transparent—”

“—ยภtเl รђє ฬครภ’t.”

He blinked at her. Wait, she sounded…wrong.

It wasn’t Faith’s voice at all that came out of that mouth. It was something eerie like the sound of something from a deep crevice somewhere in the world left unexplored for far too long that it had fallen away from memory; but only so it can haunt people in their dreams later on. That’s exactly how Kunal felt after he heard that voice. The way it made his blood freeze in a heartbeat was inexplicable and so terrifying he could feel the terror vibrate on every nerve ending on his body.

Kunal willed himself to step away but his feet shuffled faintly against the floor, scraping only an inch which was not the distance he hoped for. He still stood close to this entity wearing Faith’s face and body. There’s an ease in which it stayed stationary that’s nothing like any human he had seen carry themselves before, and those eyes concealed only by the vines of the mask were now glowing yellow. They were smooth and shiny too, with no indication of an iris or pupil. To Kunal, they almost resembled beads one can find in a doll.

At last, he managed to croak out in vain attempt for speech, “’the fuck are you?”

As much as he desperately needed to know the answer, Kunal also dreaded to hear it speak again. Once it did, a part of him began convulsing like he was just a sheet of paper being ripped to pieces.

 

 

“ฬє คгє ฬђคt ץ๏ย ภєє๔є๔ t๏ รєє, คlเςє...”

 

 

The voice echoed in spaces that he had no idea his brain had, filling those gaps with cement.  He could hardly hear his own thoughts the more it lingered inside, rattling against the enclosure of his psyche, hoarding memories and knowledge within for its own delight and use. The voice echoed more sharply this time as it even took on a new tone thought it was just as cancerous as the one before. 

 

 

“Ⱥղժ վօմ'ѵҽ ҍҽҽղ ҍӀìղժ ƒօɾ զմìէҽ ʂօʍҽ էìʍҽ. చҽ çąղ çմɾҽ վօմ օƒ էհąէ ąìӀʍҽղէ. చҽ çąղ ƒɾҽҽ վօմ.

įʂղ'է էհąէ ահąէ վօմ հąѵҽ ąӀաąվʂ ʂօմցհէ, ȺӀìçҽ, ҽѵҽɾ ʂìղçҽ վօմ ƒօմղժ օմէ էհąէ վօմɾ քąɾҽղէʂ ղҽѵҽɾ աąղէҽժ վօմ ąղվաąվ?”

 

 

“Stop...” he swore he yelled that out but it came out only as a raspy whisper instead. He raised his hands and tried to shove away the entity, but he only ended up pressing his palms into thin air whilst Faith’s fingers slipped into the gaps of his own. The clutch looked tender enough to the naked eye, but the torrent of violence that such a singular touch inflicted on his mind was staggering. Kunal could feel his eyes rolling to the back of his head. He would have fallen down too, given that his legs were rendered numb and useless in an instant, but the entity still holding him by the fingers somewhat kept him elevated on the ground. But even in his violated and helpless state, he can discern another layer of this torture; there was something so vile yet human-like about it still that it left Kunal cold.

He can _feel_ in his bones that the entity was _laughing_.

And then it was over. Kunal dropped to the floor, gasping for air and reduced to bitter tears.

He just wanted to lay there in a fetal position forever and never wake up.

Kunal must have slept because when he opened his eyes it was morning. Sunlight filtered by the curtains in a nearby window greeted his face with caressing warmth. Not only that, but there was a mattress underneath him, and he was covered in at least three layers of blankets. Joy and relief should be the first things he felt upon realizing he was safe and yet he just knew none of this was real and that he will never be safe ever again. Kunal wanted to cry but found he was simply too fatigued to do anything but stare blankly into space. He didn’t even care where he was. He just wanted for slumber to take him as far as way as it could until his entire body gives up and expires.

And so he closed his eyes and imagined death hovering so close. It will save him from it all.

There was a sharp cry from somewhere followed by a piercing pain in his abdomen. Kunal jolted up, kicking off the covers upon instinct. He clutched at his stomach but noticed that nothing was amiss—at least nothing that his eyes can see—and yet there was definitely something lodged in his stomach, making him howl out. He was still all alone in the room, laying there on the bed. It’s as if he was trapped in a vacuum displaced in time. There was no noise, not even his own heartbeat, and that’s when he realized with slow-curling horror that the sunlight bathing him was not warm at all but deathly frigid.

He could hear someone yelling frantically: “Do not surrender to the quiet of the gloom, Alice!”

‘Where am I?’ he pronounced the words but could not say them aloud. He kept clutching at his stomach until his own nails dug deep even though there was no pain from it. Undeterred, he began shredding the pajamas he was clothed in. The tearing of the fabric was soundless and it hurt him to know his senses were poisoned or defective or, worse, that he never had any. Kunal blinked away the sweat and the tears impeding his vision as they dripped down until his eyelids voluntarily fluttered shut by themselves.

When he opened them again, he finally saw what was wrong.

There was a dagger implanted on his abdomen. He could tell that the blade was buried very deeply because he could only see the black hilt studded with what looked like precious stones. An upsetting cocktail of panic, anger and fear hijacked him, but he nonetheless tried to pull out the dagger. The attempt was agonizing but then a man’s burly hand closed around his own followed by a harsh whisper cutting through the muted conclave Kunal seemed to be caged in: “This keeps you awake, you fool! Don’t take it out!”

Due to the urgency of the voice and the way the stranger’s eyes looked when Kunal bravely gazed at them, he found himself quick to obey the instruction as he fell back. His arms hung loosely on his sides as soon as he did. His brain function, though limited, registered that he was floating. No mattress or bed or blankets this time. Kunal was stabbed, elevated from anything solid underneath and hemorrhaging fast.

The stranger twisted the dagger. A crunch. Kunal choked on his blood that traveled from his larynx and into his mouth.

“I have to break your body, Alice,” the man’s voice was all he could hear now, “I’m sorry, but this is the only way I could save your mind.”

 

 

 

 


End file.
